Mars
by White-tailed Swift
Summary: On an island in the New World, May has spent most of her life guarding the city of Nuwella and is singled out due to her mysterious devil fruit power. However, when the Straw Hats arrive and come into her life, she feels like she belongs. But what does this have to do with Blackbeard and the World Government? And what's this secret weapon that's capable of mass destruction?


Prologue:

Apparently, they were called The Pistol Pirates, men of the sniping variety who had claimed that they had never missed a shot in their entire lives. The leader, a skinny man with bright orange dreadlocks and a pair of slits that passed as excuses for eyes, had made a show of himself by standing ahead of his crew, the barrel of a long sniping rifle supporting most of his weight. He sneered down at me, as if his stare was intimidating, and behind him one of his unmanly companions decided to throw their weight around by twirling their two hand-held pistols in complicated flips before catching both of them in the palm of a nimble-fingered hand.

They had announced themselves in such a fashion that it was as if I was supposed to be surprised. I mean, we were in the New World, for goodness sakes. Did they think that I would care about a band of rogues who clearly hadn't thought of a good enough name to be taken seriously? Sure, The Pistol Pirates had a nice ring to it, but that was only because they had the charm of alliteration on their side. Anything else about them was easily forgotten.

"I'm sorry," I said for what could have been the third time in the last five minutes, and the words tasted plain and boring in my mouth, "I can't let you through the gate."

Even as I stood there, refusing their entry into my home town, the tall gate behind me loomed over in an unsettling presence. A couple of the pirates had been eyeing it since they had gotten here. Of course it looked weak- all it would take was a nice cannonball to knock the whole thing over. The spikes on top, however, were intimidating, and the fact that such a skinny gate had withstood the years of protecting a big and important city like Nuwella was a mystery. How was it still standing, against the rushing winds and formidable foes the tide brought to the island? And why was I the only guard stationed out here?

The captain of the Pistol Pirates spit something that looked like chewing tobacco out of his mouth and onto one of my mismatching boots, and I scraped it in the dirt with disgust. Couldn't these men have at least _some _dignity? Surely they thought that a teenage girl like me wasn't an actual threat to their cause. I looked up at him, right into his beady eyes, and said, "It still doesn't change anything. I'm not letting you through."

Why should I let them through, anyways? They were pirates, for one thing, and uncivilized brutes at that. The only people that I let through this gate were the ones that didn't mean any harm to the civilians. As long as I was promised that visitors didn't threaten the safety of the people inside of these walls, than they were by all means welcome. But guys like these, who thought that just because they were wanted criminals that they could do whatever the hell they wanted; I wouldn't let a single _hair_ cross over the border.

Irked looks stretched across each pirate scum face, and a few guffaws were heard in the crowd. Apparently, I was being cheeky. To them, I was just a girl who didn't know any better. A clueless, brainless child who had no idea just who they were going up against.

"Look, girlie," the captain finally said. There was a thick layer of annoyance coating his voice, and I tried hard not to smirk in spite of it, "We just wanted to stop by and get a couple of drinks. Maybe stock up on supplies here and there. We've been sailing for quite some time, and this is the Grand Line. Surely you have some heart to let us poor souls in?"

His crew rumbled with scattered chuckles, obviously amused by the sarcasm. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to stand as tall as I could. Unfortunately, I'm extremely small for my age, no matter how much I hate to admit it, so it didn't account for much.

"If its supplies you want, I'll get them for you. Just give me the money and a list and I'll be happy to send someone. Otherwise, you move on to the next island. You've got Giskool a day away by ship; surely you can hold out until then."

The captain didn't like this. He let out a frustrated grunt, and with a motion that required most of his body weight he lifted the rifle into his arms and pressed the barrel directly in between my eyes. I watched as each of the Pistol Pirates' eyes sparked with excitement, and it made me comfortable to realize that my judgment on them being despicable men was right. You could feel the unmistakable tension of bloodlust; since Nuwella was an island placed in a large gap between landmasses with trading cities, sailors would be itching for a chance to move around after such a long journey, and these guys were no exception.

I looked down to the ground, where a small dot of spit on my boot was still visible. The captain's shoes, on the other hand, were thick cowboy boots, and they were on top of a very thick line that acted as a sort of personal barrier of my own. It extended all of the way around the city gate, and once somebody stepped over this line, I knew immediately, even if I wasn't there to see it.

"You stepped over it," I pouted. The man, who seemed to think that he had an edge now that I had a loaded gun pointed at me brain, blinked a few times in confusion for moment before looking down to the floor. They probably hadn't noticed the line, but now that they could see it, as clear as anything, it didn't seem to matter.

"So I did," the man growled, looking back up at me through his slits, "Is there a problem?

"For you, maybe," I shrugged, "I mean, it's not that important anyways."

He squinted more, as if it was possible, and I could tell by the expressions on his face that he was slight taken aback. He had a weapon pointed at me, and his finger poised on the trigger that would be the end of my life. Surely that would mean that I was in danger, right? Shouldn't I be crying for mercy right now, letting these men saunter into my town and do whatever the hell that wanted just to save my own skin?

The answer to that is no. I was not the least bit afraid of these men, especially since they had such a ridiculous name. If anything, I was amused by how hard they were trying.

Suddenly, as if to make matters even better, somebody started whistling. It wasn't from any of the pirates- they were looking around at each other, trying to pinpoint the noise disrupting our business. I spotted a bald head from over their shoulders, and a small, dry smile formed on my lips involuntarily. The gate was placed strategically on top of a hill, so I could clearly see the blue of the ocean, the poorly painted flag of the pirate vessel, and the form of an old, fat man as he walked towards us, holding a fishing pole in one hand and a bucket in the other. His floral print shirt did absolutely no justice in hiding his rolls, and each thwak of his brown sandals hitting the dirt matched in rhythm with his whistling tune that he liked to call "Day of Fish Oil."

He noticed the crew of pirates and without a single care in the world walked past them. It was as if he couldn't see any of the happenings going on in front of the gate, and he was wobbling back home as if it was a normal day.

"How was today's catch, Frank?" I called to him, and his whistling pitched up a tune to let me know that he was listening, "Were any of the fish biting?"

Frank didn't miss a single beat in his reply, "Not as exciting as what you're dealing with, but I got my hands on a Red-Eyed Wickertail. You're welcome to join me for dinner when you're done with this little get together."

I winked at him, and my smile grew wider from his nonchalant attitude, "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Frank. I do enjoy your hospitality."

The captain's hand was shaking slightly, to his unfortunate surprise. Of course, Frank was as insulting as ever. Not only did he completely walk by a group of pirates without giving them a look over, but he was totally unfazed by the fact that I had a gun pointed at me face. With the situation that I was in, and the obvious tranquility that was returned, the sniper was getting too uncomfortable for his own good.

Frank continued his whistling and didn't hesitate to step over the line that I had created, and in a few steps he was going through the double doors and was on his way home in the heart of the city. I turned my head and peeked over my shoulder to watch as the doors swung closed behind him, shielding him from my sight.

The gun against my head pitched forward hard, and it reverted me back to the situation.

"You don't let us by and I'll shoot a hole into you!" the captain yelled in a threatening voice, "I will not be bossed around by a little girl!"

_Little_?

This has gone on long enough. I sighed and placed my hand onto the barrel of the gun, feeling the cool of the metal as it bit into my palm. It wasn't a reaction he was expecting, and his eyes widened when out of nowhere a multitude of clicks and heaves resounded around the group. He looked back to his crew, wondering if they were lifting their weapons up in an attempt to fire at some unknown attacker, but they were positioned exactly as they were and appeared to be just as wide-eyed and confused as the captain.

"What was that?" he asked, looking back at me and shoving the gun forwards, "What was that noise just now!"

"Twenty-eight," I closed my eyes.

"Twenty-eight? Twenty-eight what? What are you talking about?!"

I could see their group from every stand view, out of a twenty-eight different pairs of eyes. In the corner of my mind, I felt the activity of over thirty other personnel making their rounds around the perimeter of the gate. A few were pacing the insides of the city, their gaze shifting from glistening shop to sheltered home, and I felt a swell in my chest rise as I looked and saw each outpost of the city that I had to protect by myself.

"You have twenty-eight guns pointed at your crew," My grip tightened on his own gun, hoping that he wouldn't wrench it out of my grip like a scared ninny, "If you don't turn around, get back on your ship, and leave this island, I'll pull the trigger."

My eyes peeked open, and I watched as a drop of sweat slid down in cheek. The men behind him all had their miscellaneous guns up, preparing to fire on targets that they couldn't see, and I gave him a smirk just to show how serious I was.

"Is this—" he tried to speak, but a nervous chuckle came out instead, "Is this devil fruit powers? Is this how you're guarding such a big city by yourself?"

"Why, yes," I replied, and I laughed along with him, "You're right."

* * *

**Author's Note-**

**This is my first time doing a fanfiction, since I'm mostly on fictionpress, but I've had this idea on a One Piece Character for a couple of weeks now. I hope you all like the beginning of it :3 **

**Don't forget to review, please! Feedback is highly appreciated.**

**White-tailed Swift**


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